


The child of negation

by harnatano (orphan_account)



Series: We are anathema [8]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: feanorians and the seven deadly sins, that was painful to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 12:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4348088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/harnatano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amras and sloth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The child of negation

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, please forgive the grammar and spelling mistakes.

“It's going to be alright, Telvo. We are going to be alright.” His twin repeated endlessly, his hand on his shoulder and his green eyes fixed on his face. “When we'll reach the shores of Middle Earth, everything will get better.”  
Amras knew his brother was trying to make him feel better, but he wasn't naive. Not anymore. And he knew nothing would change. Whatever they'll find there, it will not erase the past, it would not wipe the blood off his hands nor bring him back to their mother.

“As long as we stay together, things can only get better.” Pityafinwë repeated again, though they both knew it was lie. Things will not get better so easily, Amras was sure about it, and when he was sure about something, that meant his twin was sharing the same thought. Yet, to avoid any other crisis, the youngest nodded and gave his twin a soft smile. 

Behind him, he felt another presence, another brother, and soon after, Curufin's voice resounded. 

“There's no time for regrets, Ambarussa. Our journey isn't over and we need you both on the deck.”  
“Curvo.” The oldest twin began. “Telvo is tired and he’s still in shock, he needs to rest for a while. Could you tell father--”  
“No. You both on the deck, now. Father's orders.” Curufin cut, coldly as usual, yet the quick moves of his hands betrayed his nervosity. “And he will not allow any desertion.”  
“It is not desertion, Curvo. Telvo needs--”  
“If you have something to say against these orders, talk to father, not to me.” Finishing his sentence, Curufin left the small cabin and his youngest brothers.

“Don't worry Pityo, I'm going on the deck. I can do it.” This was also a lie, but Amrod faked to trust his twin, and slowly, reluctantly, they followed their older brother.

Everybody was busy and no one seemed to notice their presence, except Fëanor who gave the twins a look that seemed to encourage them. But their father quickly turned his gaze to look upon the east, the horizon hidden in the darkness. _How can he still hope?_ Amras wondered. _How can he see a trace of hope in this endless night?_

Suddenly, an aching heaviness invaded his limbs, wiping away the last sparks of strength which were lingering within him. He had fought this troubling feeling for days, but as he found himself surrounded by the darkness again, as he gazed at the black sky and the dark, still waters, as his father turned away from him, his mind seemed to slip into a misty confusion, dizziness filling his skull and bluring his eyesight, a loud buzzing in his ears.

It was the taste of blood again, acrid upon his tongue, its smell strong in his nostrils. How could he wipe it off? How would he get rid of it?  
His legs shook dangerously and soon, his knees reached the wooden floor.  
“Lift him up Pityo.” Fëanor's stern voice echoed in his ears, like a bell, strong and and clear and somehow, threatening. “Kano, help him.”

Amras felt his brohters' hands on his shoulders, a strong arm around his waist, a melodious voice in his ear. “Hey, stay with us, alright? Don't let it eat you, you're stronger than that, Telvo.”  
The youngest son of Fëanor clung onto his Maglor and Amrod, and nodded as they helped him stand on his feet. But as he swallowed back a sob, he heard the shameful words leave his very own lips. “Bring me home.”

–  
He was tired. So painfully, terribly tired. All that he wanted was to sleep, to lay down on this cold, wet deck, and to sleep. But the sea was as merciless as his father, and they had to work together if they wanted to make it to the shores of Middle Earth. 

“How can he even know we're going in the right direction?” Amras dared to ask Caranthir. “Don't question father now Telvo. If we don't trust him, then we're all lost.”  
And so he worked, he helped, he stayed quiet for the next hours and managed to ignore his painful muscles, his soar throat, his shaking hands, his lips chapped by the salty wind and this sharp guilt that was devouring his soul. He shared a look and few words with his nephew, the silent witness of their madness, and realized how strong Tyelpe was compared to him.

Amras raised his chin, feeling his father's stern and sharp glare on him, and obeyed silently. Fëanor's eyes didn't leave him during a few long minutes, and Umbarto could almost feel them pierce his mind, his thoughts, he could almost hear his father's heartbeats in his m head. 

_Strong. I need to be strong. I can do it, I must do it. For you, father, I'll do it. You'll take us out of this nightmare. I trust you father, you'll save us all._

And as Amras joined Nelyo, helping him with one the heavy rope, memories washed over him, a wave of bittersweet thoughts coming back from the past and filling his mind with his father's face, his voice, his gentle touch. 

_“Atya, I'm scared.” He was so young again, and Amrod was beside him, both of them in one bed too large for their little bodies._  
_“Sshh Telvo. I've already checked twice, and trust me, there's absolutely nothing under your bed.” Fëanor was smiling, one hand on his youngest son's forehead and the other holding Amrod's tiny fingers._  
_“But we heard a noise! I swear father, it was a loud, scary noise.”_  
_«And it was coming from the window!” Amrod added, burying his face into the crook of Amras' neck._  
_“Ah, in that case...” Their father began, standing up proudly. “I'll check this window, and if anything or anyone dares to threaten my sons, they'll pay it with their life!” Playfully mimicking a warrior wearing a insivisible sword and using a pillow as a shield, Fëanor walked slowly to the window, opened it, and stared at the gardens bathed in Telperion's light._  
_“D-Do you see something Atya?”_  
_Fëanor didn't reply immediatly, and Amras saw his smile disappear as a slight frown crossed the Noldo’s beautiful face. “Atya...?”  
_ _After a short while, Fëanor turned to face his sons again. “There's nothing. It was probably an owl.” He stated softly and closed the windows and the curtains after a last look outside. “My sons are safe!” A gentle laugh left his lips and Fëanor walked back to the bed. “And they'll be safe for I, their father, will always be there to protect them.”_

The memory vanished, leaving but a bitter taste in Amras’ mouth. Did his father saw something on that night? Was there someone in the gardens ? A shadow? A murmur in the wind? 

“Telvo, don't stay there, you might get hurt.” Celegorm rested a strong and yet gentle hand on his brother's arm. “Be careful and stay focused, the winds are strong and traitorous”

He nodded but didn't say anything, hiding his true feelings deep inside of him. The genuine and comforting smile on Tyelko's face warmed him up a bit, just enough to make him smile back.  
“Remember what we said Telvo? We stay together, whatever happens.”

\--  
Together.  
Yes, that's how it had been planned.  
But how could he follow them? How could he overcome this lingering exhaution brought by fear, guilt and loss? 

They had finally reached the shores of Middle-earth, as dark and wild as he had imagined. An unknown, frightening land so far from his home. And the journey wasn't over, it wouldn't be before they find the gems... If they ever find them. 

His mind filled with dizziness and tears, he looked at the waves and it seemed the blood he had spilled in Alqualondë had followed him there, red foams licking the shores and threatening to swallow him as he climbed back on the ship. 

Why was he even there? He couldn't go back, he couldn't bring this ship back to Valinor, not alone, not like that, not with a body who could barely carry his heavy soul. But he couldn't go on either, wherever their father was leading them, he couldn't follow. He didn't have the strength.

With a sigh, Amras fell down on his knees, his hands on the mast as his bare feet slipped on the deck. The ship was empty, and he could only hear the murmur of the wind, the song of the waves, and the distant voice of his father on the beach. He couldn't hear the words, but somehow, the melody of Fëanor's voice comforted him. It was something familiar, something that reminded him of home, a voice who had followed him during all his life. 

Warm tears rolling down his face, he looked up at the sky, looking for a sign, for help, for something that will not come. He heard hismelf call his twin's name many times, but his voice was only a whisper now, for Umbarto was finally allowing this aching tiredness to invade him. Curled up under the mast, he fell into a dark sleep, a dreamless sleep in which he could still hear his father's voice. 

_“I will protect my sons.”_

\--

He was awaken by the smell and the lack of oxygen. Choking, Amras tried to open his eyes but the smoke was already too thick. He only got the time to see the flames around him before he shut his eyes, black, intoxicating clouds bringing painful tears to his eyes. 

If he wasn't so tired, he could climb the mast and breath and see and call for help, but his shaking hands were sliding vainly along the wood, splinters piercing his skin as he strugggled for air.

He tried to call his twin, but coughed instead, the muscles of his throat like paralysed by the smoke. Using his mind, he threw his thoughts to Amrod, hoping that he would reach him in time, before the inevitable. But as he gathered his will, as he focused on the other part of his soul that was living in his twin's body, the flames began to lick his arms, jolts of pain spreading across his body and ripping off his sanity. 

Finally a scream ripped through him, a scream of fear and despair and pain. He didn't need to open his eyes to know the flames were getting closer, eating the wood and the ropes and the sails and threatening to devour him. Amras tried to fight, to gather his courage and his last strengths, breathless, alone, blind and deaf. With another scream he collapsed, his fingers still clasped around the mast.  
He called again, his voice lost in the cracklings, he called for his mother, for his brothers, his twin, he prayed Varda, Manwë, Eru, the names falling from his lips between each new cough. 

_Please stop it, I'm innocent! Let me go home, let me sleep! Father help me, Please!_

One last time he tried to open his eyes, only to see through his tears the mast falling beside him, on him, smashing his legs with an awful crack. The pain struck him, blinded him, but the heat... the heat was worse. 

Oh this pain, this awful pain as the fire bit his skin, consumed his hair, flesh melting under the atrocity of the flames.

The flames. 

Eyes shut, he could still see them, their kisses all over his skin and his bones, they sharp tongues, deadly and cruel and so, so painful.

He had no strength, no will to fight anymore, his mind melting just like his flesh, he thoughs vanishing with the smoke and his fëa crying for freedom. A few more whines, a last twitch of pain, just a reflex of his dying muscles as fire devoured him.

His mother's touch. His twin's voice. His brothers' smile. His father's eyes. And then darkness. The endless, deep, silent abyss.

_Father... Why?_


End file.
